


Careful What You Wish For

by sekaiseifuku



Category: Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: Breast fixation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekaiseifuku/pseuds/sekaiseifuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the springkink prompt: Jiroushin/Kanzeon Bosatsu: breast worship - secret obsession</p>
            </blockquote>





	Careful What You Wish For

Until recently, Jiroushin had been inordinately pleased with the way in which his life had unfolded.

The youngest son of a minor noble family living in the furthest reaches of Tenkai, he had been an ambitious youth, hungry for something more than the easy life of a country noble. No one had been surprised when, upon completion of his education, he’d made the long journey to the capital to sit the grueling two-week imperial service examination. Although he’d never been told as much, deep in the recesses of the most hidden parts of his ego, Jiroushin suspected he had been most outstanding candidate the Service Agency had seen in five thousand years.

In truth, it had been closer to ten.

Outstanding performance and unwavering confidence in his own knowledge and abilities notwithstanding, when Jiroushin had received his first formal assignment, he’d been so shocked that he’d been unable to speak for a full minute.

“Se requires a most particular kind of individual in this capacity,” his advisor had explained. “It is fortuitous that the opportunity coincides so closely with the end of your training. I cannot think of a single person in Tenkai better suited to hir service.”

Jiroushin had taken this as a complement of the greatest magnitude and had vowed to do everything in his power to be worthy of his position.

But today, as he rushed down the corridor toward Kanzeon Bosatsu’s office, carrying a stack of official papers so large he could barely see over it, he wondered for what was likely the fifteen thousandth time if entering public service had been the biggest mistake of his life. His delight in having been given such a lofty assignment had faded quickly and he was now convinced that his mistress was the most insufferable person who had ever lived.

“Your Mercifulness,” he began as he turned the corner into hir office, “I found them. They were _under Your bed_.”

He didn’t understand why se insisted on repeatedly “misplacing” the paperwork. The fact that it was out of sight did nothing to change the fact that it existed and thus had to be completed.

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that, Jiroushin?”

“It is the proper form of address, Your Mercifulness,” he explained, crossing the room to deposit the documents on the other side of hir desk, “it would be blasphemy to use anything else.” Se may have no regard for protocol, but he did.

Protocol approached the status of religion in Jiroushin’s regard.

“Blasphemous, you say.” Se chuckled, the sound low in hir chest. “Do I even want to know what you were doing under my bed?”

“Looking for these!” Jiroushin retorted, patting the sides of the stack, correcting the slight lean and pushing a few errant pages back in line with their more orderly neighbors before turning around—

“The Emperor’s secretary has been waiting for them for three– ” His voice trailed off, his brain short-circuiting as it tried to process the information his eyes were sending. There, not five feet from him, the Merciful Goddess sat at hir desk, the sheer fabric of … whatever it was se was wearing clearly revealing what were no doubt the most magnificent pair of breasts upon which Jiroushin had ever laid eyes.

Se watched him for a moment, an amused expression on hir face. “Three?”

“Th … three weeks.” There was something about the papers he needed to tell hir, but the thought – all thought, in fact – had disappeared, replaced by the white, rushing noise that was currently filling his mind to overflowing.

“Oh dear, we really have kept him waiting, haven’t we.” Se rose to hir feet and walked toward him. “I suppose we should give the old sourpuss what he needs. He’ll be unbearable the next time we need a favor as it is.”

Jiroushin was so distracted that he didn’t even think to correct hir pronoun usage.

“You’re looking a bit flushed, sweetpea. Are you feeling under the weather today? ” Se put the back of hir hand to his forehead as se took the first of the documents off the top of the pile.

“No! Not at all!” He jerked back, startled. At the inappropriateness of the contact, of course, not the close proximity of those exquisite breasts. His gaze was drawn downward before he could stop himself.

While Jiroushin’s personal experience in the carnal areas was exceedingly limited, he did have a fine appreciation for the arts and studies of the female form were plentiful. The sight before him, however, made the works of even the greatest of masters appear amateur fumblings.

If he were more literarily inclined, he could write endless sonnets detailing the beauty of Kanzeon Bosatsu’s breasts. They were perfection incarnate: soft, rounded curves, alabaster skin and rosy nipples peaked against gauzy fabric. He felt drawn to them as if by gravity, their pull an almost inexorable beckoning.

If he were a stronger, bolder man and se were not so terribly far above him, he might reach out, run the back of his fingers along a generous curve, feeling the heated give and the weight of hir breast heavy against him. He might bend down far enough to nuzzle a nipple, tasting hir skin through that impossibly sheer fabric, worshiping hir with his mouth.

He tore his gaze away, looking up in time to see Kanzeon Bosatsu looking at him as if se knew exactly what he was thinking.

The thought that se actually might terrified him beyond reason.

He began to inch away, back toward the door. “If there’s nothing else, I have papers of my own to complete...”

“Oh, I’m sure you do, darling.”

He bowed deeply and began a hasty retreat only to be stopped by the sound of his name.

“Jiroushin?”

He paused. “Yes, Your Mercifulness?”

“I’m a little hurt you didn’t notice my new attire.”

His face heated with a sickening combination of mortification and arousal. He turned, scrambling to think of something complimentary to say. Something that did not give away the fact that the train of thought in which he’d just been engaging had caused him to be well on his way to developing the most embarrassing of problems—

“It is … remarkably crafted.” Through sheer willpower, he managed to keep his voice steady.

“It was terribly expensive, but I think it was worth it. Don’t you?” Se casually returned the paper se was holding to the stack. “I did get it for you, after all.”

He couldn’t have heard that correctly.

“P…pardon me?”

“You can’t really think that I’ve missed the multitude of hints you’ve dropped about the inappropriate length of my skirts.” Se turned from one side to another, demonstrating the flow of the gauzy fabric as its hem brushed the tops of hir feet. “I think even an old fuddy-duddy like you must approve of this length.”

“Ah. Yes.” Jiroushin twitched almost imperceptibly. “It is of a much more modest length.” If one ignored the waist-high slits. And the transparent nature of the fabric. And the breasts. One would certainly have to ignore them for hir attire to be considered at all modest. He cleared his throat—

“It is a most becoming garment.”

“You can make suggestions about my wardrobe anytime you like, cupcake.” Se toyed with the fabric of hir skirt, long fingers caressing the finely sewn hem. “In fact, I like this idea of yours so much I think I’ll have another dozen or so of these made up. It might just be my new favorite.”


End file.
